


Vroom Boom

by A_Small_Canadian_Stranger



Category: Just a Shitpost, No Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-12 23:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16881153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Small_Canadian_Stranger/pseuds/A_Small_Canadian_Stranger
Summary: "33 years ago. That’s when it started. Everything was fine until then, the world leaders weren’t clawing at each other's throats, technology advancing at a rapid pace,  humanity had managed to slow down global warming, and series 11 of Sherlock had just come out. Everyone was happy, everything was fine.But then the fire nation attacked.Yeah no, I wish."33 years after a dangerous vaccine converts over 75% of the world's population into mindless psychopaths known as "Paulers", the only hope for humanity is a small group of survivors who have found their own safe haven in the La Cloche Mountains of Northern Ontario, their city of Urhouse. John Lock, a troubled teen with a tendency to reject his superiors, is among these survivors. While on the other side of the spectrum is Destiel Canon, the daughter of Pauler gang leader and the would-be-heiress to her family's fortune.When weird but dank circumstances bring the two together, they are forced to rethink everything they have ever known, both about each other, and themselves.  Because in a world where everything seems lost, sometimes we can find the world in one another, or some other vague, Instagram aesthetic quote.





	Vroom Boom

CHAPTER ONE - JOHN  
33 years ago. That’s when it started. Everything was fine until then, the world leaders weren’t clawing at each other's throats, technology was advancing at a rapid pace, humanity had managed to slow down global warming, and series 11 of Sherlock had just come out. Everyone was happy - everything was fine.  
But then the fire nation attacked.  
Yeah no, I wish.  
Some idiots in lab coats named Paul Novak and Paul Logan discovered this new vaccine for the stomach flu, and after it passed all of its testing stages it was released to the public. Everyone was raving about how well this new medicine worked. There were countless interviews with the Pauls on talk shows across the world, lines of people went around the blocks around the medical clinics for the vaccine, hell, even YouTubers were promoting this stuff (The beauty gurus basically junkies for it). Soon over 75% of the population was injected with this new miracle vaccine. Now, this would've been fine except that during the testing stages nobody bothered to do a follow up on the patients and realize OH HEY THIS VACCINE KINDA MAKES YOU GO CRAZY AND STUFF AFTER LIKE... A YEAR.  
Soon no one was safe. The Paulers, those infected with the virus, started to pass along the vaccine to those who hadn’t gotten it through the pores of their skin, and before long only 15% of the population was running away from what seemed like the evident death of humanity.  
Enter Grace Urhouse, the only person the world had ever seen who was both smart and looked amazing in a lab coat at the same time. After she assembled her epic team of scientists (who we now refer to as team AWHELLNAW), they started to run tests on the Paulers, and after a lot of trial and error, discovered a cure, or more accurately, a defence mechanism.  
Cars.  
A few years before 'the plague", there had been a huge threat of an AI takeover, brought on by a controversial tweet from Elon Musk. The entire thing blew over about a year before the vaccine was discovered, but the infected still found the threat very real. They decided that in order to stop the AIs from taking over they needed to worship them. The problem was nobody knew where to find an AI, so they turned to other things, computers, PS4s, and say it with me now - no actually don't we'll get to that. It wouldn't have been too easy for a human to control the Paulers through a computer or a PS4, given that the lack of electricians meant no wifi, but conveniently a person could easily fit into a car (and with a little help from team AWHELLNAW) control it to give the illusion that the car was its own being.  
So now you have a little context as to why I, Jonathan Lock, am hiding under the steering wheel of a 2067 Honda Gazelle, hunched over a tiny control panel while dozens of people in tattered clothes with blood on their hands line up in order to place sacrifices in the trunk.  
What can I say, it’s a hard knock life? Naw, I guess that’s just what you have to deal with when you’re part of the only group of people who could save the human race from itself. Although, let's be real here, there’s not much to save if we’re being honest. The internet’s down, which means Netflix is non-existent, which means all life has lost meaning. I’m already slipping through the cracks if you consider the fact that I’m essentially dead inside, as one usually is after their parents are brutally murdered by psychotic zombies at the age of five.  
No I don’t want to talk about it.  
But enough about me, and back to how on earth we are actually going about getting rid of this mess because SOMEBODY, (I pause my internal monologue to stare at a crumpled picture of the Pauls with the faces covered in red ink that I just happen to keep in the car to keep me motivated) couldn’t have one smart thought in their tiny brains.  
The remaining population that hasn’t become submissive to the “threat” of AIs are called the Awhellnawians. We keep to ourselves for the most part as everyone wants to kill us, most of us just stay in our base camp, Urhouse, nestled deep in the La Cloche Mountains. Some become teachers, some become inventory clerks, and others become the pieces of shit we know and love, politicians.  
However, there are a special few, myself included, who basically go into the cities and mission impossible the crap people sacrifice to the cars back to camp. I honestly don’t know how this has worked for so long - if one of those idiots bothered to look in the driver’s side window at the just the right angle I’d be dead right now.  
I look into the monitor on the side of the control panel. A young woman with bloody, scraped knees in a torn nightgown walks up to the trunk, a small box in her hand. She places the parcel in the trunk and kneels, wincing as her wounds come in contact with the cold pavement.  
“My lord, almighty AMDE 776, hallowed be thy license pla-”  
“Let me stop you right there.” I interrupt, because it is Friday, I’m essentially the hunchback of Urhouse from sitting under the steering wheel of this stupid car for 10 hours a day 5 days a week, and my last fuck to give just flew out the window along with my hopes and dreams. “Listen I’ve been through a lot lately, doing…” I pause, searching for something a god would say.  
“Doing what your greatness?”  
“...God things.” Smooth one John.  
“Oh, of course my liege!” She nods. “How taxing it must be on your sleek steel entity.” The Pauler slowly gets up and walks towards the wheels of the car.  
“Uh lady-”  
“ They’re beautiful…” She whispers, before embracing the tire of one of the back wheels, poking and prodding at the thick rubber. “They must be weary from your many travels, allow me to help your greatne-”  
Ya hell no.  
I slam my hand on a black button on the control panel, causing the horn to blow with the force and rage of a person finding out their notp is canon. The woman springs off the car, startled.  
“Oh your grace!” She gasps. “I did not intend to upset you.” She starts to tear up, falling onto her scraped knees which no doubt causes her to sob even more. Her words start to tumble out in fast mumbles.“Pl-Please don’t kill me, I am but a humb-”  
“Oh shut up I’m not going to kill you!” Yet. “Just… sacrifice what you came to sacrifice, I’ll put in a good word to the machine upstairs or whatever.”  
“Oh thank you!” She sobs. “I hope you will accept my sacrifice my liege-”  
“Yeah yeah, now get going. We both wanna get home on time.”  
The woman scurries off into the shadows, leaving her offering lying in the trunk. It looks like a flyer of some kind, but it’s covered in… wait, is that…?  
Oh sh*t it is.  
WHERE DID SHE GET THAT?  
I slightly barf in my mouth and glance down at my watch... 6:47 pm. Screw it.  
I take out my clipboard that has been digging into my back since 9 o’clock this morning and start to take inventory.  
Besides the flyer, there are 2 half-burnt candles, a few cans of beans, an avocado with a pentagram carved into it, a tattered playboy magazine, and a severed finger with ring pop on it. Hey, better than yesterday.  
I finish scribbling the items onto a notepad just in time to see the signal light on the control panel start to flash a bright green, time to go home. I flip a switch and the windows of the car begin to dim, blocking the view from the outside. For the first time in 10 hours, I get up from my tiny workspace and sit up in the driver’s seat, pressing my thumb onto a pad by the steering wheel to turn the engine on. The roar of the motor sends the remaining Paulers screaming through the streets, something along the lines of “THE RETURNING! IT’S HAPPENING! THE OVERLORDS ARE ASCENDING TO TÜMBLR!”  
Ya about that. Somewhere along the line the majority of the Paulers were apart of fandoms, and therefore lived and breathed tumblr. They were the ones who made up this “Tümblr”, the land of the AI. When me and the rest of the Awhellnawian gatherers leave the cities at the end of the week to deliver the supplies to Urhouse, the Paulers believe that the cars are going back to some weird heaven thing, but for cars. I don’t know how their twisted little minds came up with that, but then again, nobody knows what Paulers are thinking.  
A crackling voice comes on over the radio, it’s Commander Wallace, the leader of gathering unit 62, my unit. “All gatherers are called back to the late Gottacatche Mall for the returning. Failure to comply will result in dramatic readings of wincest fanfiction.”  
I shivered. I used to know a guy who tried to hook up with one of the Paulers and decided to stay back one night.  
He jumped off a cliff screaming “I NEED CLOROX.”  
It’s inhumane, seriously just kill them already.  
I ride through the streets, staring at the chaos these things are living in. What had once been a rich part of this city has turned into slums, ruins, and WAY more strip clubs than are necessary. And this is supposed to be one of the richer parts of town, it would probably be tolerable if you didn’t mind all the, you know… murder.  
I arrive at the mall, a long strip of crumbled concrete and shattered glass that’s about two swings of a hammer away from a pile of dust. There are already a few cars here, probably from the north side of town, where if you don’t get out of there quickly you get mobbed by the Paulers. Huge riots break out, people die, the whole shebang! Not even the cars are left out of it. We lost 3 Toyota Enigmas last summer, along with Jim, Jam, and Jimothy, the Moriarty brothers. But they were douchebags, so karma’s a bitch.  
Commander Wallace’s voice comes back on over the soundwaves. “Alright boys, roll call. Ben Dover?”  
“Here.” Ben’s wheezy voice replies. Ben’s an okay guy, just super fat. Think Kevin from the office plus two more neck rolls and a lifetime of free nuggets at McDonalds.  
“Red and Velvet Pancakes?”  
“Here!” The twins pipe up. Even though their parents were murdered for high treason but they still ended up on a gathering force, not sure how they swung that but I’m fairly certain they’d murder me if I asked.  
“Johnathan Lock?”  
“Not absent.” I respond, gaining a few giggles from various other gatherers.  
“Shut the hell up John.” Wallace barks, I can almost see his huge bushy eyebrows coming together to form what I call the mega brow - a shiny unibrow of level 9000.  
“Noted.” I quickly respond.  
And so roll call continues, people make smartass comments for attention, and before long we drive off into the night, our tiny caravan of hopeless dreamers with cars filled to the brim with crap nobody will use but people will act like is an achievement anyways to try and prove to themselves that they aren’t completely wasting their lives.  
I love my job.


End file.
